


Brownies

by Ebhenah



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Divergent, Emotional Conversation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hopeful Ending, Lance (Voltron) is a Good Friend, M/M, Negative Self Talk, New Beginnings, Operation Kuron Zine, Self-Esteem Issues, Some angst, emotional fallout from Black Paladins, future kurance implied, future kuron/lance implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:41:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26205109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ebhenah/pseuds/Ebhenah
Summary: After Keith returned with, not one, buttwoShiros and a rather jumbled explanation about clones and Shiro's essence being held in Black, all eyes are on the pod holding the 'blank slate' that Allura placed Shiro's soul in... until Lance feels something pulling him away from the others. He finds the man they thought was Shiro for so long and offers up some comfort.Written for the Operation Kuron Zine
Relationships: Kuron & Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 34





	Brownies

Still reeling from the loss of the castle, Lance felt like he was teetering on the edge of a breakdown. He’d just wanted to sneak out; bond with his flight team; meet some girls. Somehow, that plan for minor mischief had ended up with him… here. Standing on the barren rocks of some unnamed planetoid in a dead system. 

After months of war, uneasy truces, and betrayal, this is where he ended up. Keith had followed Shiro’s ship and returned with **two** Shiros- one in some kind of healing pod thing, and the other unconscious-missing almost all of the familiar Galra arm. They’d just saved all realities by giving up the closest thing they had to a home, then regrouped… here. Even after everything he’d seen, it was hard to wrap his head around the fact that he was watching the soul of his childhood hero get transplanted into a clone his former rival had saved. Allura was glowing as she rested her hands on Shiro. When she lifted them again, his black hair was completely white. 

It was too much.

He was just a boy from Cuba. How had _this_ become his life? He felt a soothing rumble from Red, followed by a pale echo of it from Blue. It helped. It really did. They were exhausted- recovering themselves, but the bond with the Lions meant he never felt completely alone, even when things went sour with the non-robot members of the team. His current and former lions retreated from his consciousness to rest.

That’s when he felt the _tug_. 

It wasn’t a physical thing, really. It felt almost like when he was on the astral plane… The tug repeated, stronger this time. It wasn’t Red or Blue… but it definitely felt like a Lion. Curious, he drifted away from the others- nobody noticed where he went anymore, anyway. As long as he wasn’t bugging them- they were happy. As he got closer to Black, the tug got stronger.

“Okay, okay,” he muttered, switching to a light jog, “you’ve got my attention… I’m coming…” As he got close, the massive Lion opened its jaw, revealing the loading ramp. For the first time since his failed attempt to take up the mantle of Black Paladin, Lance climbed it. The tug was back, this time kind of leading him away from the cockpit, toward the storage area. He moved past a stack of assorted bins from the castle and froze. 

Beside the now-empty healing pod, curled on the floor, was a familiar form. “Sh-Shiro?!?!” 

“No,” the man shook his head against his knees, “not Shiro… was never Shiro… oh God…”

Something clicked in Lance’s brain. Keith had explained what had happened- Lance just hadn’t really put together what that _mean_ t. Coran had been skeptical that the healing pod would actually help and so much had been going on… He shook his head, shifted his focus, followed his impulse to _help_. “Okay,” he sat on the floor across from him, “so… what do you want me to call you then?”

He didn’t even lift his head to answer, “nothing. Don’t call me anything.”

“Right. That’s not going to work. I just can’t call you ‘hey you’ or ‘not-Shiro’. That’s ridiculous! How about…. Gyro? That was you, right?”

“What?” He actually lifted his head that time. Lance felt his heart lurch in his chest. He’d never seen so much _pain_ on that familiar face, even when he had those awful headaches. Mustering up a smile, he scooted a bit closer.

“Monsters and Mana,” he reminded him, “that was you. It was after… everything with Zarkon, so it had to be you. Right? You remember?”

“Yeah,” a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, I played Monsters and Mana.”

Lance smiled back, encouraging him. “Yeah, your character’s name was Gyro, right? So, for now… how about I call you that?”

He nodded again, dropping his knees and shifting so he was sitting tailor-style, “okay. For now.”

“Good- now we can have a proper conversation. How’s your head? Is it bugging you?”

“Lance,” he sighed, and just hearing his name was kind of reassuring. “Why are you here?”

“Ummm… I think Black was worried about you? I’m not really sure. I just felt… like I needed to be here. So, here I am.”

“You should be out with the others…”

“They don’t need me out there,” he said with a wave, “I’m too distracting. But I’m betting you have a vicious headache. Don’t you?”

“I don’t deserve your help Lance. Do you know what I did?” 

Lance could see him go pale, starting to crumble as the momentary distraction gave way under the weight of the self-recrimination. “You mean, have your brain hijacked by Haggar? Because, I mean, I know I’m the dumbest one on the team, but that seemed pretty straightforward when Keith was explaining it. It was the arm, right?”

“I sabotaged the castle,” he whispered, “you all would have died.”

“You’re not giving Pidge enough credit.” He shifted again, moving to lean against the wall beside… Gyro. “Turns out, she was suspicious of that arm all along… so… tada!”

“I tried to kill Keith…” Horror and heartbreak laced his voice. “He must hate me, now.”

“I don’t think so. I mean, I haven’t really **talked** to him, because… it’s Keith. Buuuut, I don’t think it is actually possible for him to hate you… if he _hated_ you, he wouldn’t have _saved_ you. You wouldn’t be here now.”

“I tried to kill him,” he repeated. Lance didn’t even need to see his face to know it was a mask of panic. “I almost did. I almost killed **Keith**!”

“No. No, **you** didn’t. You weren’t making the decisions. You weren’t in control. It’s not your fault. Keith knows that.”

“I can… remember… I can _see_ it… the scar… oh God, what…”

Before he had a chance to think better of it, Lance pulled him into a tight hug. He’d once dreamt that he’d hurt his nephew. Even though it hadn’t really happened, the dreamed up image of the little boy’s face had haunted him for weeks. Given how close Keith and Shiro… uh… Gyro… both? Whatever- given how close they’d always been, he could only imagine how much worse it must be to have that memory and know it really happened.

“It wasn’t you,” he whispered, squeezing him tight, “you would never choose to do that. It was awful and I’m sorry you have to remember it, but it was something that happened **to you** not something you did.”

“You… you don’t **know** that, though. No one does!”

“I do,” he insisted, running his fingers through his hair the way he used to when the headaches were bad. “Because if **you** \- the person you are, at your core, without outside interference, could **ever** pose that kind of threat to Keith, Black would never have accepted you in his stead… would never have pulled at me until I came in here to talk to you. You wouldn’t be so horrified now. You’d be grabbing on to any justification I offered, but you’re not. You are reacting… like a Paladin. A hero. Because that’s what you are.”

“How can you defend me like that? I was awful to you- oh God! I was so, so, horrible! Yelling at you like that? I had no right-” He sat up, breaking the hug and pulling away from Lance. “Why didn’t I realize how wrong that was?”

“I have four older siblings, a little yelling isn’t going to crush me. I’m made of tougher stuff than that, Gyro. Most of the time, we were fine. Better than fine. We were friends… I have a theory… the times we got into it about plans or whatever- am I remembering right that your head acted up afterwards?”

“I never really thought about it… maybe?”

Lance reached out and caught his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze, “it’s just a theory, and I’m far from the brains of Voltron… but I think… I think… whatever the arm was doing, it was hard on you. I think the headaches might have been because you were being messed with. I think you were fighting it hard enough to hurt yourself.”

“Why? Why do you think that?”

“I dunno… It’s a hunch. But, right now, I can **see** that your head is acting up. So, will you please let me help?” Adjusting his position on the wall, he patted his lap in invitation. “C’mon... Black brought me here to help. I can’t fix the big stuff. I know that, but I can help your head… the big stuff will be easier to sort out if you aren’t fighting a headache.”

Gyro eyed him skeptically. Lance just **knew** he was trying to find some way to convince Lance to let him suffer. He might not technically be Shiro, but Lance still knew him well enough to nip that right in the bud. “Please? There’s nothing I can do to help the others… I hate being deadweight.”

“You are **not** deadweight, Lance!” He protested immediately, “you are a valuable, important member of the team! You think people don’t notice, but I do. You’ve saved our asses more times than I can count, and you are always there when I need someone to- oh...”

“See? You’re still you. It’s a slightly different you than we thought, but you are **not** a threat. **You** never were. It was the arm.” He smiled softly, “I know you. I trust you. So, let me help you already!”

His movements were a little clumsy, and he lost his balance a bit overcompensating for the weight of the Galra arm that he no longer had. The healing pod thing needed to be moved out of the way, and Lance had to help him lie down on his right side, but they managed. Once Gyro’s head was cushioned on his thigh Lance began raking his fingers through the two-toned hair. It only took a few passes before the serious gray eyes drifted closed on a soft sigh. 

“You’re not, you know,” Gyro mumbled, “dumb, I mean. You’ve said that twice now and it’s not true. You’re not dumb.”

“I didn’t say I was dumb,” he countered easily, “I said- the dumbest _on the team_ . It’s okay. I’m smarter than average, I know that. It’s just that Voltron is bursting with geniuses. I… wasn’t putting myself down. If Coran numbered us by IQ instead of height, I’d be Number 5… _mayyyybe_ Number 4- Keith can be a dumbass sometimes, too.”

Gyro chuckled, “we’re all dumbasses _sometimes_. I just don’t like hearing you insult yourself.”

“Yeah, well… right back at’ya…”

They went quiet then and Lance found himself sorting through his memories of his time in space. He’d already had something of a divide from when Keith had taken over the role of the Black Paladin, so it wasn’t actually that hard. 

Now though, he was splitting his memories of ‘Shiro’ into two. He’d thought ‘Shiro’ had seemed different after he’d returned to them, but he’d always just chalked it up to being recaptured and escaping. Most of the changes were fairly minor things, anyway.

For all their conflicts, and the harsh words at times, Lance slowly began to realise that the process of hero worship becoming friendship had mostly happened with the man in his lap. Keith being away from the team was probably a big factor, but it didn’t change the facts. It had been Gyro doing the Voltron Show with them. It had been Gyro who had played Monsters and Mana with him- they’d even had their own separate campaign with Coran: ‘The Grand Adventures of Gyro and Pike’.

How many vargas had the three of them spent rolling dice and fighting imaginary foes?

It had been Gyro who had listened to him ramble about Cuba and his family as he’d played with his hair and massaged his scalp, trying to rid him of some of the tension that was making the headaches worse. Gyro who had helped him clean up and erase the evidence of his failed attempt to make an alien version of flan. Gyro who he’d talked to after Pidge and Hunk had given him a hard time about Allura; who’d made him see that his ‘crush’ on her was more habit and admiration than anything else.

He had important memories of Shiro, too. That wouldn’t change. Shiro had been his hero, his role model, his leader, his teammate… and that bond wasn’t going anywhere. 

But now that he was actually able to look at things with full knowledge, he could see so clearly that there were actually two distinct, unique relationships.

“Do you really think it was the arm?” Gyro asked after Lance had been massaging his scalp for awhile, his voice soft and tentative.

  
  
“Yeah,” he replied immediately, “I really do. You’d never betray us.”

“Because Shiro wouldn’t.” Even with his hands obscuring most of Gyro’s face, Lance could see the grimace.

“No, because **you** wouldn’t.” His hands stilled and he curled forward so Gyro could see his face. “I’ve been thinking… you, and him. You guys are…” He sighed, deciding to start over, “okay, so… recipes. My mom has this brownie recipe she’s been using forever. She always follows it to the letter. She does exactly what it says, and the brownies are always awesome… but sometimes they are fudgier, or sweeter, or more cakey. The recipe doesn’t change, but the end result does.”

“I’m brownies in this story?” Gyro asked, skeptical.

“Kinda, yeah? Like, same dna, same memories up to a specific point. But you aren’t him. It’s hard to explain. Just… looking back… things were different. Not _bad_ but… um…” he felt his cheeks flush, “just… different…” Suddenly self-conscious, he went back to massaging Gyro’s scalp. 

“I think I know what you mean.” The silence that followed wasn’t as comfortable, but it was a familiar one that they’d navigated enough that it wasn’t worrisome. “Kuron. That’s what people should call me.”

“What? Why Kuron?” 

“It was the name of the clone project. I remember hearing them say it- the druids. They created me, and that’s what they called me.”

“God, that’s macabre!” He cringed, “you don’t have to use it just because that’s the first thing you were called. If you don’t want me to call you Gyro, we can brainstorm names…”

“No, _you_ can call me Gyro.” Now it was his turn to flush awkwardly, “I just don’t want everyone else to… and… I actually like Kuron.” 

Lance had been about to argue when he saw the peaceful smile on his face, so, instead he just smoothed the white forelock back from his face and nodded. “Feeling a bit better?”

“Yes,” his smile grew, “my headache is almost gone… and… yeah, this helped. You helped.”

“Good, I’m glad.” Of their own accord, Lance’s fingers continued to play with the soft hair, keeping him relaxed. “Listen… staying here, in Black. I don’t know that it will be good for you. Not while you are still adjusting. Probably won’t be great for Shiro, either… plus, it’ll be crowded as hell in here. Why don’t you bunk in Red with me? At least for now.”

“Shiro?”

“Allura… did **something**. Shiro’s spirit was held in Black, she… um… restored it to…”

“The blank clone,” Gyro finished for him, a fresh sadness washing over him, “so you guys get the **real** Shiro back. Good.” 

“You are just as real as anyone… See?” He tugged lightly on a lock of Gyro’s hair, “100% real. Now, you should stay in Red… with me. Okay?”

“Lance, you don’t have to-”

“Stop it. I know I don’t. I want to. You need someone you can talk to- someone with a bit of distance from the issue. We’re good at that- the whole talking things through together thing.”

“If you are sure… I guess I have a lot to figure out, and Keith shouldn’t have to- yeah. Alright.”

He was pretty sure he knew how that comment about Keith was intended to go- and he didn’t like it- but Gyro had agreed to stay in Red, so he left it alone. He just smiled at him, letting things go quiet again, his hands still moving through Gyro’s hair.

“I’m not a Paladin anymore,” he sounded calmer than Lance would have expected given what he was saying, “when we get to Earth… I’m not him, not Garrison.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re a civvie,” he mused, “you can grow your hair, pierce your nose… anything you want.”

“Anything I want…”

“Mmhmm… join the rebellion with Matt, help out on Olkarion, or open up a little repair shop on Earth like you talked about doing when you retired.”

“A civvie… so… I don’t outrank you anymore.” A genuine smile bloomed on his face.

“Nope,” Lance answered, smiling back. “I guess not.”

“And… we’re not really teammates anymore…”

Lance blushed at the impish twinkle that appeared in Gyro’s eyes. “Technically, that’s true.”

“Good,” his smile softened, expression shifting to tender. “That’s a silver lining… probably going to take awhile to figure myself out, though.”

“Probably,” Lance agreed, moving to catch Gyro’s hand and squeezing it in reassurance, “that’s okay. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good. I like having you around.” He laced their fingers together, his thumb rubbing gently. 

“Me, too,” Lance answered, feeling a soft wave of something close to gratitude from the Black Lion. “C’mon, let’s get you settled away in Red. You ready?”

“Yeah, let’s roll.”


End file.
